Rescued
by LatteJazz
Summary: Don't worry," she whisperered. "It's going to be all right." What was she supposed to tell him? That he had less than a ten percent chance of recovering? Sometimes the truth hurt too much to tell...
1. It's been too long

_Note to you from me, LatteJazz: _

_"Rescued" revolves loosely around an incident in the original Final Fantasy VII game. In one climax, Cloud is 'puppeteered' by Sephiroth and gives him the valuable Black Materia, with which Sephiroth is able to summon a disaster called Meteor. The summoning of Meteor awakens a WEAPON (a creature the earth uses to defend itself) with an earthquake. The earthquake causes Cloud and his companions to be separated--Cloud falling into the lifestream, and the rest of the company scatters. Apart from Cloud, they reform and search for him, which is where Rescued picks up. When I say it is based loosely on the game, it's because...well, you'll see. In this chapter and only this chapter, most dialogue is actual in-game dialogue._

_Inspired by "Waiting for the World to Fall" by Jars of Clay; lyrics [bolded] copyright to them. Characters, dialogue [in this chapter] and concepts copyright SquareEnix. Oh, bother! Nevermind that--I own nothing! Nothing, ya hear?_

_I've put a lot of time and effort and thought into this, making each word count... I hope you...enjoy?...it. =)_

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* * *

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CHAPTER

:|RESCUED|:** ONE**

_**I'm afraid it's been too long to try to find the reasons why…**_

"Cloud! It must be Cloud!"

There were no words for Tifa's hope. After weeks of torturous searching, they had found him at last. Excitement rippled through her while happy butterflies tumbled in her stomach. Her spirit soared. Finally! She was tantalizingly close to the half of her which had been missing for so long.

Up the worn village path she danced, hope lending wings to her feet. The rest of her party struggled to keep up with her and fell behind, but she had forgotten all about them in her newfound state of bliss.

_'At the clinic,'_ she recalled the villager's words. It had to be close now. In a town as small as Mideel, which was traversable in seconds, how far could it be? Auburn eyes sparkling, Tifa raced on. Emerald undergrowth rushed past her; every now and then she caught a glimpse of sparkling ocean. It seemed the whole world was brighter—its vivid colors, the tranquil sky, the sunshine chasing her feet. She sprinted faster, consumed with fiery anticipation and joy.

There!

She turned pell-mell and approached a building, confident that this was what the villager had been describing. White paint peeling, the clinic was stilted and nestled into a thick blanket of jungle foliage. Several high windows looked out to the west across the ocean. A ramp and stairs led up to a tired wooden door—Tifa flew up the steps four at a time, barely touching the ground, and burst through the door.

If only she had been prepared for what lay on the other side of that door.

~ x ~

_**I let my world close in around a smaller patch of fading sky**_

"Here now!" From a counter across the room a middle-aged doctor looked up, startled by Tifa's intrusion. He frowned. "The way you're running around, you'd think Meteor had fallen." He straightened and crossed his arms, a slightly inquisitive expression shaping his aging face.

"I'm sorry, but I heard a friend of mine was being taken care of here…?" Tifa scanned the room impatiently.

"Friend?" the doctor asked. Brow furrowed, he looked her over. "Oh, yes! That young fellow? Don't worry, your friend is next door. But I'm afraid his condition is…"

Tifa didn't hear him. She was already through said door and in the adjacent room, utterly oblivious to the doctor. At the moment the only thought on her mind was that, somewhere in this building, was Cloud.

The room she had entered proved to be a long, tiled white hallway that carried the unmistakable aroma of hospital. The windowed wall to the right was of no interest to her, but the left was lined with various doors—rooms for patients, she assumed. She peered through the glass panel in the first door: empty. And the next: empty as well. She hurried down the hallway, not panicked but not at ease as her shoes squeaked on the pristine floor. Where was everybody? The nurses, doctors, patients? It was so quiet. As the sunlight filtered faintly across the room, she discovered that one of the doors had been left ajar. She edged closer, and then caught her breath.

"Cloud?" An unmistakable shock of spiky blond hair was just inside the room. Tifa sprang toward it.

Back facing her, he sat on a chair and stared out a window. He hadn't heard her call his name, but Tifa rushed up behind him anyway, giddy relief flooding through her. "Oh, Cloud! I'm so glad you're safe! All along, I--" Her eyes were moist with rapturous tears that transformed the world into a happy blur; and, though there was usually a mutual distance between them, she couldn't stop herself from flinging her arms around his neck...

Tifa had always known Cloud to be a reticent, reserved sort of person. As such and having known him almost better than he knew himself, she expected only perhaps a brief embrace or long-awaited exchange of words. Even a simple, "Hello, I missed you" would have sufficed. But none of these occurred, and Cloud remained peculiarly silent. At the very least he could have turned to look at her—but he was as still as a statue. Bewildered, Tifa drew back and crept to his side, intently watching him.

"Are you all right?" she asked hesitantly. Instead of tuning his gaze to meet hers, he bowed his head and stared at the floor. Only then did Tifa realize that he was _not_ all right_. _Because his feet were resting on metal platforms and a blanket was spread across his lap and his arms lay limply to the side and his back was slouched, inert, and…and Cloud was sitting in a _wheelchair._

"Cloud?" His name barely escaped her frozen lips. Dream-like, she reached out to softly touch his shoulder. This time he responded with floundering, faltering motions and tried to raise his head. It lolled limply to the side and he stared obliquely at Tifa. More unsettling than his ragdoll body was his eyes. Though always an intense blue, they seemed extraordinarily luminous now, and emitted a bizarre cerulean glow. They stared vacantly into space—lifeless. It as if his familiar orbs had been replaced with a stranger's—and the stranger's eyes were crazed, distant, empty. Dead.

To the cold floor Tifa sank on her knees, transfixed. Fighting back a wave of nausea, she gently took one of his hands in her trembling own. If he noticed, he did not show it.

She desperately searched his face for a hint of recognition. "What's wrong, Cloud?"

His head lolled sideways again as if he didn't have the strength to hold it up. Slowly, his eyes roamed about the room until, finally, they stared at Tifa. Or, more accurately, _through_ her. He blinked.

"A…gurk," he muttered hoarsely.

Paralytic with disbelief, Tifa shook her head. "What…what happened to you?" Hot tears blurred her vision, distorting his face into a whirl of white and blue. Her throat was suddenly a twisted knot.

"Mako poisoning," replied a voice. Tifa hadn't heard the doctor come in, but there he stood in the doorway.

"…quite an advanced case," he was saying. "It appears this young man has been exposed to a high level of mako energy for a protracted period of time…he probably has no idea who or where he is now. Poor fellow, his voice doesn't even work…he is literally miles away from us, some place far away where no one's ever been…All alone…"

"D***. That's evil." Cid Highwind stared somberly over the doctor's shoulder, eyes narrowed. His words barely reached the stricken Tifa.

She tried to say his name again but couldn't seem to choke out anything more than a sob, which was likely the fault of the tears that streaked down her face. She made no effort to suppress them, but leaned her forehead against Cloud's knees and shut her eyes, willing herself to wake from the vivid nightmare. But twisted reality wouldn't allow for that sort of thing and it never does; she opened them again and Cloud was still there, oblivious to anything and everything as she wept and held his pale hands.

"Why? What do you want me to do?" she tried to say. He stared back at her, ghosted eyes empty and void.

"Please, Cloud! Talk to me! Tell me that you see me, that you can hear me…Tell me, please…"

That was the day the world shattered.

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_Your thoughts: I would love to hear them. :D_


	2. Winter in my wonderland

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**CHAPTER**

:|RESCUED|: **TWO**

_**I've never crossed beyond the walls to where I've never been**_

…_**And it's still winter in my wonderland**_

Two days passed…and then, two weeks.

Or was it two months? A year, perhaps?

Time was something Tifa had ceased to understand.


	3. Waiting for the world to fall

__

**From Me to You:** _There are three hidden messages in this chapter. Some hints below--_

_1) Rhymes with something Final Fantasyish. Perhaps a foreshadowing?_

_2 + 3) Each message anagramed_

_Regardless of the puzzles, I hope you enjoy this chapter and, as always, I appreciate _all_ constructive criticism/reviews (they brighten my day)! =] And let's give a hand to the ever-optimistic Tifa. We daresay we could all use a good dose of optimism._

_**CHAPTER**_

_:|RESCUED|:** THREE**_

_**I'm waiting for the world to fall**_

_**I'm waiting for the scene to change**_

_**I'm waiting when the colors come**_

_**I'm waiting to let my world come undone**_

"Open up."

No response.

"Come on, now."

Silence.

"You love mashed potatoes. Open your mouth. That's it…"

Metal clattered against the table as Tifa set the spoon down, all the while eying Cloud attentively. He stared back at her with his normal blank expression, slowly chewing on a mouthful of bland hospital food. His clumsy movements conveyed uncertainty as to whether or not he knew what he was doing. Perhaps he was conscious, but was powerless to respond. Or maybe he truly was miles away.

"See? That's not so hard." Tifa tried to muster an encouraging smile, but somehow it only came out as a faint, sad little twist of the lips.

Cloud's head bobbed sideways in reply. "Green," he said.

Tifa lifted a napkin to his mouth to remove a bit of food that had dribbled down his chin.

"Green is brown," he concluded.

"I don't understand, Cloud..."

She didn't think she ever would understand. Cognitive disability, the doctor had said, was a side effect of the mako toxins. Since the day she had found him, he had not uttered a single intelligible phrase. Most words existed—save 'gurk' and 'ngh' and additional jargon—but made no sense when he struggled to put them together. But as Tifa saw it, at least it was something. At least she should hear his voice, even if it was never to her that he spoke.

He gazed at her with unreadable blue eyes: "Meet led nova."

For the hundredth time, Tifa wondered what was going on in his mind.

"I…veil…" he stumbled, staring vacantly at the floor.

There was nothing she could do but wait helplessly as, day by day, his life ebbed away. Though he wasn't _physically_ dying, something similar to death was creeping through his body—a sort of eternal dark slumber. Often Tifa wondered where his mind was and what it was going through in whatever ocean of isolation it swam in. She wondered if, wherever he was, he could recall who he was and who others were—that is, if he remembered anything at all. She fervently hoped so, but the disconnected shell that was his body suggested otherwise.

"I…veil a toy of…u--" he trailed off. At a strange angle lolled his head again.

Every now and then Tifa longed for someone to talk with. Early into the nightmare, the rest of her party had had to leave. With the urgent materia crisis, Weapon's sudden appearance, and pressing issues with Shinra—not to mention the impending Meteor looming in the sky—she understood their leaving. They had seemed to understand when she remained in Mideel with Cloud; they promised to visit when possible. Still, the solitude was almost unbearable. It was strange that finding what she was certain would bring delight had only brought despair.

Feeling Cloud's stare, she shook off her pensive thoughts and lifted another spoonful of food to his mouth. It opened automatically this time. He chewed methodically, unsteadily, like a child. It was strange, the way things had turned out: once her protector, Cloud was now the protected. He had transformed from a determined, headstrong and powerful ex-SOLDIER to a helpless heap of confusion that could barely string together a sentence. It should never have come to this.

"Don't worry. It's going to be all right," she told him in a whisper. "You'll see."

She stared out of the window, remembering the doctor's words…

_"I've never seen a case this bad," he had declared, shaking his head in remorse. "An immense amount of mako-drenched knowledge was put into his brain all at once," he had explained. "No normal human could have survived it. It's a miracle he did."_

_"How long does it take to recover? A couple months, then?"_

_"Miss Lockhart. If I may be so forthright, there are no known successful remedies—time, treatments, tests… This state is a physically-induced mental confusion, consequent of the poisoning. I am afraid your friend is almost beyond recuperation."_

"_Almost? Is there any chance…?" she couldn't speak past her tightened throat._

"_At best, I would allot a ten-percent chance of recovery…I am terribly sorry, miss…"_

Ten percent, but it was still something: it was hope.

Yes, there was still hope, though it had been quenched to the faintest ember. Tifa kept it alive—praying, believing, willing it to flourish. She believed in miracles. They had fought so far; she couldn't give up now. No matter how vast the darkness, there was always a light. Despair was not insurmountable, and sooner or later, things were going to change.

And, though Tifa did not know it yet, the next day things _were_ going to change.


	4. The world unbroken

_**LatteJazz says** she's keeping this chapter short and sweet 'cause the next one is long and luxurious! She also recommends the Tifa-theme song called Truth In Forgiveness Await [OC Remix]. _

**CHAPTER**

_:[RESCUED]:_ **FOUR**

_**I close my eyes and try to see the world—unbroken--underneath**_

_**The farther off and already—it just might make the life I lead**_

The drizzling of rain as it slipped across the windowpane was just persistent enough to wake Tifa. Slowly, her eyes flickered open to the shadow-cast hospital room. The morning light filtered everything to a dark, peaceful blue. From her cot, she could see Cloud sleeping across the room in his own bed.

Only, he wasn't there.

Instead of his sleeping form, a pile of sheets was folded neatly at the foot of the bed.

She sat up, fully awake. "Cloud?"

Her soft call was answered only by the rain.

Had he miraculously recovered overnight? The ember of hope flared briefly. Was this the miracle she had been waiting for?

She stared about the room, trying to penetrate the darkness for some clue. Something caught her eye—a glimmer of silver, like a sparkling wave, from the corner of the room. She instantly recognized the object: Cloud's sword. It was still here. When up and about, Cloud was inseparable from his weapon—but here it was, so where was he? If he had suddenly left, he would have at least said goodbye; of that Tifa was certain. Nothing of that sort had happened, though, so he must still be here, just in a different room. Only, no one had informed Tifa of a room transfer….

There were only two explanations.

Actually, three.

Tifa threw back the sheets and stumbled out of bed. Her bare feet felt icy. Whether from the cold floor or the apprehension creeping through her, Tifa did not know.

_Pitter, patter, _whispered the rain from the window. _Pitter, patter…_like her footsteps on the tiled floor.

She took several steps into the shadows and tripped over something smooth in the dark, hitting the floor with a solid thud. Shakily, reached out to touch whatever it was she had stumbled over. Her fingers met a hard, smooth metal. Tracing its shape, she found it was a circle and in that instant recognized the object: a wheelchair. Around the seat she felt blindly for any occupant. It was empty. She scrambled to her feet and made her way toward the door, heart racing.

In the hallway, the far windows let in soft shades of blue and emerald. The light was enough to illuminate the room…and, near the further end, a figure in the shadows. It was a blackened silhouette around which the emeralds and blues wrapped themselves, coloring its edges. But the figure…Tifa knew it. It was one she had engraved in her mind and traced in her memories; one she knew better than any other.

"Cloud?" This couldn't be happening…or could it? She stepped forward, incredulity stealing her breath.

At her call, he turned and looked up at her, eyes as blue as the dawn light. They were different than she remembered: instead of distant and hollow, they were…alive. Young. Warm. These eyes she had not seen in a long, long time—seven years. Seven long years, and now she stood before the Cloud she remembered...

"Tifa."

"You—you remember me?" she breathed.

He lifted a hand slowly to her face and gently stroked her cheek. "How could I forget?"

Tifa's defensives crumbled. She found she was now unable to choke back the tears that had been begging to be shed, and buried her face in her hands as she sobbed. "I can't…can't…"

Strong arms encircled her shoulders and pulled her close. "Shh," soothed a whisper. She melted at his touch and leaned into his shoulder, crying. So many thoughts flooded through her mind that it was impossible to make sense of anything. But she didn't have to. Here, resting in his secure embrace, she was safe from the shadows and fear. Here, she was in the calm in the center of the storm. She wouldn't notice even if Meteor itself came down: as long as he was alive, so was she.

Eventually her tears subsided, and the only sound left was the rain and, beneath her ear, Cloud's heartbeat. She gazed up at him to find that he was—"You haven't smiled in a long time," she said.

"Neither have you." Even his eyes were smiling.

At seeing him so peaceful, a smile of her own tugged at Tifa's lips. "Only in my dreams."

"Tifa," he began, then paused to push a lock of hair from her eyes. The smile became bittersweet. "I…came to say goodbye."

"What?"

"I have to leave…"

"No." She buried her face against him, eyes shut. "Not yet."

"…can't stay much longer," he murmured, pressing his lips against her forehead.

"Just one more minute."

"Tifa…"

"Please." Pleading, now. She held him tightly as if to prolong the inevitable. If only moments like this could last forever…

_I'm going to miss you,_ she thought.

"Tifa," Cloud murmured gently. "You're dreaming."

And she whispered: "…I know, Cloud."

* * *

**_From LatteJazz to you!_** Hmm...I think this is arguably in or out of character. But hey, anything can happen when you're dreaming, right? I feel kind of lame for writing one of those classic dream-scenes, but it does have _some_ importance and hopefully you the reader got something out of it. Had you figured it out at the beginning, or was the ending surprising? What think'st thou?


	5. A little more than makebelieve

_Might be going to college at Biola (Los Angeles) this August. Quite a drastic change from these little mountains outside my window!_

_Been busy that kind of stuff lately, partially the reason this chapter is slightly late... _

_Anyone else doing the college thing now? _

_No subliminal messages in this chapter, sadly. Unless you want to read between the lines. Har. har._

_**CHAPTER**_

_:[RESCUED]:** FIVE**_

_**A little more than make-believe, when all my skies are painted blue**_

_**And all the clouds don't ever change the shape of who I am to you**_

She woke slowly, gradually regaining consciousness to her surroundings. It was noise that drew her back to consciousness: muffled voices speaking in low undertones. They were punctuated by the _clang_ and _clink_ of metal. Footsteps also accented the air—several sets, from what she could hear. She thought she heard the sprightly, objective voice of Yuffie; the other voices must belong to the rest of the party. Odd that they should chatter away while she lay sleeping. When at home in Midgar, Tifa habitually prepared breakfast for AVALANCE while they lounged around the bar. Today, she must have slept in. Barret was going to be angry if he didn't get his coffee.

"Make your own," she muttered loudly, pulling her pillow over her ears.

"Miss Lockhart?" asked a soft, timid voice.

"I told you to call me Tifa, Marlene."

"Miss Lockhart," repeated the voice as a hand touched her shoulder. "Wake up."

Half asleep, she winked one eye open and discovered not an admiring pair of young brown eyes but the all too familiar nurses' uniform. Tifa glanced up at the woman's face, perturbed at having been woken at this seemingly early hour…what time was it, anyway? She squinted at the generic black-rimmed clock on the wall—2:30 A.M. Behind the nurse hurried several others, a blur of chrome and white, pulling various carts and machinery—the source of the clattering noises. Other medical personnel moved swiftly about the room until it was teeming with commotion and people and noise and lights…

Tifa blinked and sat up, wearily massaging her temples. "What's going on?"

"There's no need to panic," the nurse began gently, "everything is under control."

"I'm not panicking. But if you're going to say it like that, maybe I should be…? What is happening?"

The nurse hesitated and cleared her throat. "Your friend is being moved into intensive care."

"What? What is that supposed to mean?"

"His body has—"

"Forget that! Where is he?" She was on her feet, eyes darting about the room.

"It's all right," soothed the nurse. "He's in another room but not fit to see anyone right now. We will notify you the moment you can see him."

Tifa would not be consoled. She leaned forward and placed her hands on her hips, auburn eyes ablaze. "He needs me. If possible, I would like to see him…_now_." She tried not to sound too intimidating.

The nurse glanced away momentarily, unhappy. "I'm sorry."

Tifa let the silence hang, waiting for the nurse to change her mind. She didn't.

"At least tell me what is going on."

"Some machinery needs to be set up, that's all. You'll be able to see him later, but for now will you please wait in the lobby?" The nurse was practically pleading.

Tifa stiffened, hands clenched. Waiting was the last thing she wanted to do; she might as well have been told to breathe.

"Miss Lockhart. It's best for both of you, at the moment. Be assured we are doing all we can to suit the needs of your friend. Please." The nurse seemed sincere and, Tifa realized, she was probably right. Suddenly she was incredibly tired. Nodding in consent, Tifa gave in and allowed herself to be led away.

* * *

With no ideas as to the details of the situation and no one to answer her questions, Tifa's imagination was left to its own dismal devices. She paced the lobby, too consumed with anticipation to sit down. Save the horrendously loud ticking of a clock by the clinic door and her own tumultuous thoughts, the room was mostly silent.

Periodically, she paused in her pacing to glance out the window. As the hours had crept by, the darkness faded into a cold blue, then grey. The window overlooked the road; and Tifa could clearly see the rest of Mideel from her vantage point. It was such a little town. This morning it was shrouded in soft mist and, as the day progressed, persistent rain that draped the entire village in a shimmering curtain. Tifa leaned against the wall and stared at the plumes of smoke that rose from the chimneys—it reminded her of her home during the winter. As children, she and her friends would dare one another to venture up the haunted reactor path in the mountains. Keeping sight of the smoke so as not to get lost, each child would edge up the winding path as far as bravery allowed and then scurry back down, squealing with excitement, when their imagination got the best of them. As Tifa grew older she realized there were, in fact, no ghosts lurking around those wooded corners. No monsters prowled in the bushes, ready to devour her. On one fateful day she had even wandered up the road until a bridge broke from underneath her; as a result of the fall she spent seven days in a coma. That's what Cloud had said, anyway. She didn't remember the details…

For a time she slouched against the window, forehead pressed against the cold glass, and allowed the ocean of bittersweet memories to carry her where it would. For so long the same thoughts had cycled over and over again, until her mind seemed a worn path. To let them wander elsewhere was relaxing, mindless… Anything to keep her mind from the present.

She stared absently at the ceaseless wafting of smoke…sank into a chair and curled into a fetal position, resting her chin on her knees as she watched the rain...

"_Sorry I'm late." Atop the town water tower, the nighttime wind of Nibelheim was even colder. The clear sky, rich with blues and greens, was sprinkled with bright stars. Even more dazzling was the face of the moon. It cast a pale glow across the wooden tower—plentiful light for a young girl to see by as she ascended a ladder to scaffolding. She shimmied along the tower side to where a boy was leaning back on his palms, staring up at where the darkened mountain range met the sky. Though cold, it was a fantastically beautiful night; in the distance several yellow lights of the village twinkled. The girl took a seat near the boy, legs dangling over the edge of the roof. "You said you wanted to talk to me about something?" The quietness of night seemed to echo her words off the distant mountains; everything could be heard with perfect clearness from up here. _

_"Come this spring…I'm leaving town for Midgar," he announced._

_She swung her legs back and forth through the cold night air below her. "All the boys are leaving town." _

_"But I'm different from them. I'm not just going to find a job." Empty silence as he paused. "I want to join SOLDIER. I'm going to be the best there is—just like Sephiroth!" Emphatically, he spread his arms._

_The girl—Tifa—glanced over at him, surprised. "Sephiroth? The great Sephiroth?"_

_He got to his feet and disappeared around the corner of the tower, then reappeared several moments later on the tower's shingled roof up above. All Tifa could perceive was his silhouette—it rose against the painted sky, the form of a boy no more than fourteen._

_She glanced back down and stared at the stars. "Isn't it hard to join SOLDIER?"_

_Silence. She imagined him nodding. "I probably won't be able to come back to this town for a while."_

_SOLDIER, as Tifa knew of it, was one of the most difficult-sounding ranks to stay in. They were a group of elite men who fought to protect people and the government…or something like that. They fought bad men and dangerous monsters and were always in wars. They were tough and strong and fearless… She imagined Cloud with them: because of his youth and height, he would be half the height of all of them. And his spiky blond hair would stick out like a sore thumb. She giggled at the thought._

_"What?" _

_She leaned back and looked up at him. His bright, inquisitive eyes peered back at her from beneath the shadows his hair cast. "If you make it," she said, "will you be in the newspapers?"_

_"I'll try," he replied, sounding determined and optimistic. _

_They sat in silence for several moments, save the whisper of the night wind in the trees and crickets' chorusing. Tifa half-listened, absorbed in her thoughts…_ _"Hey, let's make a promise…um…if you get really famous and I'm ever in a bind…You'll come save me, all right?"_

_She heard a scuffling noise and looked up to find Cloud staring down at her. "What?"_

_Tifa rested her head against the side of the tower and tried to find his eyes again. "If I'm ever in trouble, my hero will come and rescue me. I want to experience that at least once." Now that the words were out she looked away self-consciously, glad that the darkness hid the burning in her cheeks. The silence that followed was uncomfortable. Did he think her stupid? Silly, perhaps? She wished he would say something. _

_He did: "What?"_

_Just like him to say that... Tifa grinned and looked up. "Come on! Promise me!"_

_He seemed to think it over in the moments that followed._

_"All right…I promise."_

* * *

Dreams and memories, however pleasant, eventually fade away. Tifa watched the stars disappear; the mountain wind kissed her face one last time and was replaced by the sickening hospital stench. Stiffly, she sat up and found the rain pounding outside just as before, though the clock told her several hours had passed. She found she had woken at just the right moment, as—finally—the door across the room swung open and the doctor stepped in. Tifa stood and paced across the room to him.

"Can I see him now?" she asked, anxiety pulling her voice tight.

His wrinkling face was somber but he nodded. "But first, may I have you clarify several details about your friend?"

She nodded, nervously pushing back strands of ebony hair, and the doctor proceeded to produce a clipboard and pen. He cleared his throat and read from the papers.

"Strife, Cloud. Age twenty-one…"

"Twenty-two this August."

"So young…" muttered the doctor under his breath. "Are you aware of any previous exposure to mako he may have had?"

"He was in SOLDIER for eight years—a first class. SOLDIER are treated with mako, right?"

The doctor paused and glanced up from his papers. "Yes," he agreed, "but in small, gradual doses which the body and mind are able to handle. If this is true for young Strife, then theoretically his body should have handled this recent encounter with the mako more positively, as it is familiar with the substance. But it didn't. I don't understand it…." He frowned and cleared his throat again. "Do you know of any hereditary ailments in his parents—heart disease, diabetes, cancer, etcetera…?"

"I…don't know. They are not living," she replied, stiffening as she pushed away an unwelcome memory.

The doctor halted in his notes and stared up at Tifa, face darkening. "Does he have any siblings?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Living relatives? Wife, children…?"

"No…"

He hesitated, mumbled, and then marked something on the papers.

"What is it?"

The doctor opened his mouth, and, after thinking better of it, closed it again. He scrawled something on the papers again, then turned for the door and gestured for Tifa to follow. "This way."

The doctor's taciturn and the sickbay smell of the hallway did nothing to soothe Tifa's agitated heart. Where was his room? The tiled white floor seemed to have no end. She wanted to race to his side and end this interminable wait. At the same time, something compelled her to turn around and go back. Gritting teeth and clenching fists, she settled for something in between and tried counting. _One, two…three… _

And then she discovered the doctor was holding a door open for her. She stepped past the threshold and into the room. _Eleven, twelve… _

A silver hospital bed stood in the middle of the room. White sheets lay draped over a reclined figure, rising and falling gently over the curves of a body. There a faint, undulating movement of the sheets that corresponded to a beeping noise. Tifa crossed the room to stand closer, curling her hands around the cold metal bars that ran alongside the bed. Now she perceived that he lay on his back, head twisted so that one closed eye was hidden in the folds of his pillow and mess of hair. From his nose was extended a pair of silicone tubes. A sort of milky liquid crept through them. His mouth, framed by pale, splintered lips, was slightly agape. A shaft of hair had fallen in front of his face; it rippled with the shallow tide of his breathing. She reached to touch his face—_hot_. His breath was scalding hot—drops of perspiration scintillated on his face and neck. Tifa searched for his hand and, cautious not to disturb the IV inserted into his wrist, slipped her hand into his. Like the rest of his body, his hand was on fire. She wrenched her gaze from him to stare pleadingly at the doctor. "What's happening to him?"

"His body is finally responding to the mako overexposure. Or, more accurately, responding to the _lack_ of it." Maneuvering around machinery, he approached the cot. "It's like a drug—after an encounter with it, the physical body becomes addicted. The greater the quantity, the more severe the addiction--and the more critical the consequence of withdrawing. In its prolonged absence, vital systems may cease to function."

Tifa stared again at the scarcely moving figure before her, delicate as ashes. "And that is exactly what has happened, isn't it?" she breathed quietly.

"I'm afraid so."

"But…if a lack of mako is causing this, can't you just give him more?"

The doctor nodded slowly. "Yes, but only in the most minute of doses. To overdose yet again would be fatal." He stepped forward and gestured to a bag of greenish liquid that fed into a tube. "This is a diluted mako concentration. He receives only the smallest amount necessary to keep his body breathing. But mako is also the cause of the condition. So, you see, it's a fine line: the very thing that is keeping him alive is also slowly killing him."

Tifa's heart stopped. "You mean…?"

He nodded.

"H-how…long?"

"Difficult to say, as it depends upon how tolerant his body is. Could be minutes. Could be years."

Tifa couldn't find words to say. Several seconds of silence slipped away, save the monitor's chime. B_eep-beep…beep-beep... _The room echoed with its monotonous dirge.

"Doctor…may I have a few moments alone?"

"Of course; sorry. Take as long as you like—there's a chair in the corner for you, along with his belongings. A nurse or myself will check in periodically…and there's something I need to discuss with you later." His footsteps recessed and Tifa heard the metallic click of the doorknob.

"Doctor?" she asked.

"Miss Lockhart?"

"Any…" she faltered. Shut her eyes. "Is there any chance of recovery?"

"It would be a miracle." The door closed and she was left alone.

She could hear each heartbeat: _Beep-beep. Beep-beep. _She kneeled at the bedside, trembling.

"Can you hear me?" she murmured, already knowing the answer. His blue eyes slept on, static. If she could see them but once more…She willed them to open—there was never a blue to match his. They were something between a fire's glowing cobalt and the evening sky just after sunset. To think of a world without them…

"I never thought it would end like this."

_Beep-beep. Beep-beep. _Each drew closer to his last.

"On that day seven years ago…do you remember your promise? I…I feel horrible. It's you who is in a bind now, and there's nothing I can do to save you. Nothing for you. Do you know how many times you've been the one to save me? So many times, it was just the thought of you that kept me alive. Gave me a reason to keep going. You're still my reason, Cloud…" Tenderly, she traced the edge of his face with her fingertips. Something hot streaked down her cheeks and fell quietly on the white sheets. "So keep living, all right? I never thought it would end like this—and I still don't think it will. We've been through so much together and I'm sure there's some good hidden in all this suffering…I-I just don't know what it is yet." Still holding his hand, she laced her cool fingers with his feverish ones; his pulse beat weakly in answer. Against the metal railing of the bed Tifa leaned her forehead. "If I had known this was coming, I would have done things differently." She closed her eyes. "Every day is a gift. You can't take the future for granted. I did—and now I'm afraid it may be too late…to tell you…every day, I should have told you…I…love you."

Were it not for the wrenching of her heart and the ensuing sobs that tore at her throat, Tifa might have noticed the subtle change of the heart monitor. But, consumed in a flood of regret and sorrow and tears, she didn't. Nor did she notice the fingers encircling hers gently respond to her touch. Slowly, a set of sapphire eyes flickered open. They found her weeping, broken figure and lingered there for several seconds before closing silently. Still Tifa was oblivious.

And the faint, whispering voice that called her name was only her imagination.

Or so she thought.

* * *

_From Me to You: Though a total pain in the _derriere_ at times, I had fun writing this chapter._ _Note that this is NOT the last. Your perspectives, thoughts, and ideas are inspiring and appreciated. ^_


	6. My view is changing me

**It wasn't updated as promptly as the other chapters 'cos I wanted to make this last chapter good. **Or, try to anyway...

So yeah.

Without further ado:

**DA LAST CHAPTERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!**

**Meaning, chapter of the last.**

**As in, no more.**

**OK, just wanted to get that out of the way.**

**O.O**

**PS: ... Share your...erm..._theories_.**

* * *

**CHAPTER**

[::RESCUED::] **SIX**

_**I'm waiting for the world to fall**_

_**I'm waiting for the scene to change**_

_**I'm waiting for when the colors come**_

_**I'm waiting to let my world come undone**_

He had been here for some time now.

Green.

The void was bathed in a radiant, lustrous, maddening green. It had no smell or feeling, only a permeating numbness that murdered the senses and strangled the mind. It spread through his soul like ice—steadily, deadly, without warning.

Black.

Darkness followed the green in an abstract, mesmerizing pattern. The colors danced in fractals—a seemingly random design, but actually comprised of billions of fragmented memories. It was the lifestream, pure and untainted. In essence, the memories and subconscious of individuals who had joined the lifestream. It has been estimated that the information contained by one human's DNA, if written as in a book, would stretch all the way to the moon and perhaps even farther. And this is only one person's genetic makeup. The lifestream was the subconscious of people—their memories, thoughts, experiences, emotions, words, souls; and even the smallest amount of mako contains a fantastic amount of this information. Instead of comprehending this overwhelming data, the mind shuts down. Such was the case of Cloud.

Thoughts scattered and senses scrambled, his mako-saturated mind wandered desultory. The haze shrouding him rarely cleared; up was down, down was up. Alien thoughts and foreign faces repeatedly assailed his mind until he forgot who he was and who others were. Among others' memories he could not distinguish his own—utter chaos is impossible to organize. However, one sense he was acutely aware of: pain. At some point in time—if time was still relevant—the numbness left his body. (That is, the thing his consciousness would have perceived as his body).

The anesthetizing green surrounded him, trapping him in a sphere of oblivion. Mentally, he lifted a hand and extended it into space. It pressed against an invisible glass wall in front of him. Trapped. He took a breath and discovered that his lungs were filled not with oxygen, but boiling liquid. Alarmed, his body rejected it. But he could only hold his breath for so long; another water-filled breath was inevitable. To the last bit of life in his lungs he clung desperately. Suffocating. Drowning. He must be drowning. A panicked, mute scream spent whatever precious oxygen he had left. Involuntarily, he inhaled and again the scalding water seeped into his mouth and throat. So this was the end...

It wasn't the end.

It was worse than the end because it wasn't. Instead of drowning, he took in breath after breath of the burning, invisible liquid. Eventually the agonizing fire clawed at his extremities and worked its way to his core. Helpless, he submitted to the pain, dozing in and out of his hazy mental state. There was, at one point, an exception to the interminable hurt. Like a fresh ocean breeze it came suddenly, binding one of his hands in heavenly cold. He stared into the green void as memories flashed across his mind's eye. They were meaningless. With all his mental strength he pushed past their veil, trying to find some truth behind them. And, briefly, something familiar flickered into his vision: a dark-haired woman, kneeling at his side. Important—he sensed that she was important. But he couldn't place her significance. Did he know her? Something deep in his being told him he did. A name…what was her name? It took every ounce of will he could muster to sift through the millions of memories that flooded his mind. While the heat consumed his body, he searched wildly through hundreds of anonymous memories for a name…

The agonizing flames subdued his mind, but he was determined to remember. And he did. "Tifa…" His scorched lips whispered her name and it lingered pleasantly in his mind, like cool waves splashing upon the sand. Just a moment, and then it was gone…

* * *

_**When I catch the light of falling stars my view is changing me-- **_

_**My view is changing me…**_

_**I'm waiting.**_

"…up to you."

Bloodshot eyes stared back at him. "What did you say? I'm sorry…not really following…"

The doctor repeated himself, slower this time. Tifa listened and tried to make sense of what he was saying—"this state of consciousness" "living relatives" "ease the—"

Some of the puzzle pieces snapped together.

"I'm...the closest thing he has to family. I'm…his only family." It sounded more like a question when she said it.

The doctor nodded at her, waiting. What had he said before? Something about...oh, yes. She remembered the word: _vegetable_. That was it. Cloud was a vegetable, and they didn't know how long until he…

"So it's…up to me?" The dark hallway they stood in swallowed up her quiet voice.

"If you do decide, there is always that option."

"What was the option?" she repeated, confused.

He cleared his throat, and then said gently: "Euthanasia. Passive euthanasia. It's a…painless alternative…"

His murmuring faded to white noise as Tifa stared through the glass pane in the door, across the room to the feeble figure on the bed. It moved almost imperceptibly; the only sign of breathing being a slight change in monitor's reading. The ugly vision blurred behind tears, and when Tifa spoke it was in a whisper. "You want me to decide…now?"

"Whenever you're ready, Miss Lockhart. Take your time."

She would have taken her time, and she wanted to. However, fate had something else in mind. Within twenty hours of Cloud's first collapse, a wave of seizures followed. As she would come to learn, these were only the first waves. Shortly after, his temperature fluctuated madly from fiery to frozen, rarely stabilizing and sending an endless torrent of chill and fever throughout his body. All the while Tifa watched. She was frozen in fear and painful indecision as time slipped away, gradually taking her hopes of a miracle and what was left of Cloud's life with it.

* * *

The decision was ever-looming above Tifa. That cursed decision. When she faced it and tried to rationalize one side or the other, it tangled her emotions and thoughts like a sticky cobweb. Unconsciously, she was putting it off; finding ways to pass the time besides thinking about it. Sometimes she paced the miserable room, or through sleep temporarily escaped from one nightmare into another. Periodically a nurse would bring meals by, despite the growing stack of untouched trays. The television might as well have been disconnected; its droning of news and ShinRa and Weapon were of no use or importance to Tifa—the only important thing lay among a network of needles and wires, halfway between life and death. So she waited there, by the bedside, hour by hour. Against her face as she occasionally pressed a tattered dark blue cloth. It barely retained the scent she craved, but even so, it provided a degree of comfort.

One time she was draping the shirt over the rusting sword in the corner when a flicker of pink hidden in a pocket caught her eye. Curious, she pulled it out slowly and the length and weight of it gathered in folds on her lap. She recognized the object immediately: a ribbon. Aeris' ribbon.

Fragmented memories flickered across her mind's eye—the Forgotten City, all those days ago. Aeris' death. Cloud's expression, as he held her. In his eyes—love and fear and sadness. Tifa felt this now. Across the room she looked at him and imagined their places reversed; imagined herself comatose, chained to consciousness only by tubes of mako. What would Cloud have decided for her? Sometimes she knew Cloud better than he knew himself, but she to this she didn't know his answer.

Absorbed in her thoughts, she didn't remember the ribbon she was holding until it slipped from her fingers, falling to the floor softly. She bent to pick it up and, reverently, folded it. As she slipped it back into the pocket, something besides cloth brushed against her fingertips. She retrieved it with care, a well-creased, crinkled piece of white paper. Well, partially white. Yellow stains flecked its surface; probably the toll of the days Cloud spent drifting in the ocean. Cautious of its brittle edges, Tifa teased the corners apart and a picture unfolded. Had it not been for the numerous times it had been folded, the ink would have been blurred even more than it already was. It took Tifa several moments to make out the faded image… A large stone plaza, lit by high neon signs and filled with a bustling crowd. Two figures stood in the center of the square, still against the crowd's flowing motion. She hadn't been looking at the camera—she hadn't even been aware of it—but pointed enthusiastically at something off the screen, captured midsentence. Her smile seemed to have been brighter back then... Cloud's own smile was so rare that, as Tifa stared at the photo, she was surprised to find even half of one stealing onto his face; his cerulean eyes glancing askew at the camera. Electric blue light softly backlit their silhouettes, more vividly through Cloud's hair and faintly at his arms. Standing slightly in front of him at the time, Tifa hadn't noticed one of his hands reaching around her to lightly touch her elbow. It was a whimsical, insignificant snapshot—compliments of the Gold Saucer. But, judging by the well-worn edges and where she had found it, it must have been more than that to Cloud.

Tifa stared at the photo for a while, lost in thought. It was the only picture she had ever seen of the two of them together, and the only picture of Cloud. She glanced up across the room at him. _Probably the last one, too._ One last, tear-stained picture…

She had to decide. Soon.

* * *

She had dragged a chair over to his bedside and fallen asleep there some time ago, half crumpled over the side of the bed, one hand still entwined about his as a silent token of devotion. Now, her bloodshot eyes opened and she sat up. Blinked. A tired haze scarred her eyes but Cloud was still there, heavy eyes closed. The last spasms had passed a while ago, and were becoming so frequent they were almost predictable. In the sharp pain he had cried out, but now he merely soughed from time to time. Now, as Tifa watched, a slow murmur forced its way from him; she bit her lip and spoke soothingly to him. People, places, memories—she recounted them to him, not sure why she did, gazing pensively at his unconscious form as she spoke. His fingers were like snowflakes between hers: cold and fragile. Under his translucent, wintry skin twisted streams of thin blue veins. When Tifa's words were gone and the room fell silent once again, she stroked his forearm sadly.

Seventy minutes and another set of convulsions racked his body, this time particularly harsh. The doctor and nurses came, went. Amongst other things, a dose of morphine was added to his cocktail of chemicals. The doctor said it killed the pain. Though Tifa knew little of medicinal things, she knew that was a lie. It may have eased the pain, but it definitely didn't kill it. The only thing that was doing any killing was the pain itself. She saw it etched in Cloud's familiar face, heard it in every breath. Each was a ragged gasp, forced out like cloth torn through nails. She recoiled from the sound of it—the sound of his suffering.

Another noise pounded continually in her ears: the heart monitor's cacophonous _beep_. It was like a grisly game that toyed with her nerves. Normally, the beep sounded steadily and was accompanied by a green, spiked line on the monitor's display. She had grown used to the repetitive pattern the line made. But once, sometime after the seizures, it had changed pace. Initially she thought she was drifting off to sleep and only imagined that it slowed, but quickly realized she was wrong. Each consecutive beep was subtly spaced from the previous. Another minute and there would be no pulse at all. Frightened, she had called for the doctor, who rapidly entered with several nurses; Tifa was whisked away and made to sit across the room as the nurses surrounded the cot and obscured him from sight…

Four times in the past eighteen hours this had happened. Each slowing would be abruptly ended with another wave of convulsions. The irregularities were becoming regular, but each time they brought fresh torment to Tifa. Each time, he suffered more.

But Tifa could change that. She could resolve all the hurt, dissolve all the pain. Suppose her miracle never happened?, Suppose he did…die? To take away the mako, to gently let him go…it would save him from suffering. Though it would cost Tifa her own joy—and her best friend—he could still be rescued from the pain.

Once, when mute tears slipped from Cloud's closed eyes and his shuddering hand coiled so tightly about Tifa's that his fingernails pierced her skin, she was convinced she couldn't suffer his suffering. She had reached for the pager, the words that would save him already forming on her lips…

And hesitated.

She couldn't do it. She had thought she would rescue him, but now she realized she couldn't choose between his suffering and her hope.

Why not? Wasn't his anguish reason enough?

She didn't touch the pager.

It has been said that the greatest transgression a being can commit is separation of the intellect from the heart—acting solely on behalf of the heart or mind. Tifa's heart and mind were as different as fog and sunlight, and just about as cohesive. She rationalized that she should save him from the torment; but her core still held a ray of hope, however faint.... Which was the answer?

She needed more time to think.

As each minute ticked by, she felt so selfish.

Even as she sat here, struggling to make the right decision, a part of her was convinced that she already knew the answer. Cloud was dying. He wasted slowly, like smoldering embers, but death was almost inevitable. Until then, intensifying pain tortured his body. Why must he exist in such stupor when there was a painless, peaceful escape? No purpose in making him suffer a second longer! _Let him go_.

But her feelings fought vehemently with such thoughts. That other less rational, more passionate part of her refused to be persuaded, articulating its own argument in emotion. Saving him pain would cause herself even more pain: she couldn't let him go. It was a selfish thought.

She thought she loved Cloud Strife, and she still believed she did. But how would love decide? Would it simply stand by and watch his torment? Maybe that wasn't love—maybe, it was pity. The thing that hoped, believed, endured to the end: that was love. To let him go seemed more like despair than love.

But it was so cruel to allow him to suffer like this.

"Cloud....what am I supposed to do?"

For a long, long time she stared into his ashen face, as if to find the answer there. Perhaps she did find it there, concealed in those mako blue eyes. Because by the next time the doctor came in, she had her answer:

* * *


	7. Rescued

**I lied. ****Sorry. ****Sort of. =]**

**Hooray for updating angsty, already-finished fanfictions at 1:59 in the morning!** (And suffering myriad mosquito bites in the process. Just now, one got the top of my head. When I get to Heaven, I'm definitely going to ask God why He made those things! They could do something more _helpful_, like eat gnats or pollinate flowers or catch flies. But nooo...they have to go and suck your blood and leave infuriatingly itchy zit-like bumps...I think I have twenty to thirty! I'm moving to England or something).

**All right, this is the last chapter. I promise.**

PS: If you like this fanfic then, after you read it, go buy "Rescued" by Jack's Mannequin from iTunes. Along with "Waiting for the World to Fall," it played an equal--if not greater--part of inspiring this fic for me...just thought I'd share the goodness!

**xXxXxXxXx**

**:: RESCUED ::**

_the . last . chapter_

Words. The sound of them echoed like ripples. Like grains of sand, being stirred from the bottom of a river. The water would catch them and whirl them upward, and as they floated weightlessly for just a second—just a second—they almost made sense. But slowly they would sink to the bottom again, their meaning slipping away just before it could be grasped. It was like trying to catch the wind, or trying to remember that elusive dream just after you wake. On the tip of your tongue.

The words—here they came again, muddled and distant. "I'm sorry, Cloud."

Words.

A spark raced through his dead mind.

Words!

He had forgotten what they meant, what they sounded like, how they were formed. What made them words?

They were beautiful. It was so beautiful to hear…words. Exactly _what_ they meant he wasn't sure. But he relished them and the feeling that he knew what they were, letting them slip past him like the cool, steady flow of a river.

"…don't know if you can hear this or not. I wish you could. It's all right if you can't… But, Cloud…"

They still didn't make complete sense—but the spark glowed as if it would burst into flame any second. A name. Not just another trivial word or sound that drifted in the river, but a name: _his_ name. It belonged to him. It, too, was beautiful.

_Beep, beep. Beep, beep. _What was that? Not a word. More like faint drone. He didn't understand it.

"It's just that there are so many confusing feelings trapped inside of me. I don't know how to put them into words, but I'll try my best. I just need to hear myself think. I need to tell myself why I chose what I did. So, I guess I'll just explain it as best I can. I hope…I hope you can hear me--"

Hear.

The spark that was his consciousness danced madly, flaring and twisting and burning.

_I can hear you._

Not only could he hear but, in the dizzy haze that his mind slogged through, slowly _understand_.

With this knowledge came a physical knowledge as well: pain. It was familiar, as if he had encountered it an entire life ago. Like a million shards of glass burning his blood with an icy fire. Such a coldness should have numbed his body, but he felt it only because it was contrasted by a warmth. The heat in his hand made the ice appear, made it painful. It shot up his arm like an arrow, thawing the ice that was his body. When he willed his limbs to move, they became deadweight. The pins and needles sensation was excruciating, and he could only lie defenselessly as it spread through his body.

_Beep, beep_.

Again, the words filled the darkness that swam over his eyes. He tried to concentrate on them instead of the white fire. They proved an effective distraction.

_Listen. Focus._

"Ever since I first found you, I've tried to find reasons to keep going. I keep trying to catch a glimpse of hope in anything, anywhere—I don't care, as long as it's hope."

_I know that voice._

Foggy, slate-grey pictures swirled in his mind. Everything was snow for a moment—and then, a mountain. Weather-beaten trees. Branches.

_I know that voice._

A giant egg made of frozen water. A rock—no, a black circle—in someone's palm.

The pictures stirred his memory, but they still had no meaning.

Wait a moment—

Amidst the rocky, snowy slopes, a face flashed through his mind.

And the spark in his mind exploded into blue flame.

_Tifa._

_Tifa!_

At the top of his lungs, he screamed her name into the void--

_Beep, beep._

--and heard nothing.

_Tifa! _

_Oh please, please…! _

"…and hope is hard to find, especially with you looking worse each day. Do you feel as awful as you look? Probably. Probably worse. He—the doctor—said you're on morphine to kill the pain, but we both know it's not doing anything. Your face, Cloud…."

The mako-induced stupor broke, giving way to lucid reality. Of two things Cloud was now keenly conscious: one, he was in a hospital; and, two, he was…awake. After years of comatose, the reverie had ended.

_Doctor? _

_What did they do to me? What happened?_

He flailed his arms and forced his frozen eyelids open, but the effort was only mental. Instead of producing movement, it only intensified the burning agony. Helpless, he lay still, trapped by pain in this frozen prison.

_Tifa._

If only he could open his eyes. She was so close! He could feel it. Her gentle fingers twined through his—the only warmth there was, the warmth that made the ice so painful. Mentally, he squeezed her hand as tightly as if she were the only thing keeping him alive.

Cloud didn't know it, but Tifa _was_ the only thing keeping him alive.

"It's cruel and selfish of me to say this, but…" Her voice floundered for a second, tone tightening and rising.

So warm was his hand that he felt a drop of water trickle down the back of his hand.

"…but more than once, I've wished that you would have…would have died a long time ago. For your sake and mine, because it…_shreds me up inside_ to see you like this.

So, Cloud…I'm so sorry."

Her fingers slipped out of his.

_Don't leave me._

Now, footsteps—he couldn't tell how many.

_Beep, beep._

A new sound reached his ears—a crisp, rustling noise. It took him several seconds to interpret, but once the thought crossed his mind, he was absolutely certain he knew what it was. Paper.

Footsteps.

Tifa's hand found its way back into his.

"I'm sorry that you have to suffer like this: but I _can't let you go_. I won't! If this is fate, I'll be fighting it with my last breath—and if this is a story, let's change the ending. _That_ is my decision, Cloud Strife. And you know what's strange? It makes no sense! I don't have a single sane reason for it—other than this."

Fingers slid against his face and cradled his cheek. Something warm and moist pressed firmly against his lips, moving gently against his mouth…

"I love you, Cloud."

_And I love you, Tifa._

~THE END~

**xXxXxXxXx**

**Happy endings are underrated. Especially if you're Tifa, and you've gone through all of that angst. **

**Happy ending, you ask?**

**Yes. I fancy that shortly after this chapter, the story of Rescued reverts back to the original game: Mideel is attacked by a Weapon **[giant winged monster]**, which causes an earthquake. The ground splits apart to reveal the lifestream coursing underneath. At this point, Tifa takes Cloud outside **[he is only in a wheelchair]**, and they accidentally fall in. **

**In a long series of cutscenes, Tifa enters Cloud's consciousness and, together, they sort through the confused pieces of Cloud and restore his original self. This, along with something to do with being in the lifestream** [don't quite remember xD]** miraculously cures Cloud's physical state as well. Then the cutscenes flash to Cid's airship, of all places.** [If I wrote it, they would've washed up on the beach or something. But that's me, and as you've discovered by now, I'm a hopeless romantic--hence the ending ;-)]

**So that's what would happen right after this chapter.** (Go watch the cutscenes on YouTube. Amazingly high-quality graphics, too! =] Just kidding).

**Anyway, enough of my ramblings.**

**Now it's your turn. **

**Please.**

**=)**


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